Home
by colormyheartred
Summary: "She finds it as soon as she gets back to Storybrooke. It's much bigger than she'd thought it would be, big enough for a family of three with room to multiply." Captain Swan.


She finds it as soon as she gets back to Storybrooke.

It's much bigger than she'd thought it would be, big enough for a family of three with room to multiply.

Oddly, she's at ease as she climbs the steps. Getting the keys wasn't difficult, nor was getting the landlord's agreement for her taking the place as her own. Turns out, being the Dark One has its benefits, even if it means putting everyone she loves at a distance.

As she steps inside, her heart squeezes tight.

She can't have that _future_ right now, but looking at the place, she finds out just how perfect it will be for them.

There are empty walls that might one day be filled with pictures and there's peeling wallpaper in the master bedroom that she almost wants to magic away in order to replace it with a nice shade of blue- one that would match his eyes- but she clenches her fist instead.

She can't change anything, not without him here with her.

This is _their_ happy ending. Or, it will be soon enough- this house.

It's cold and no matter how long she spends lingering in each room, thinking about the potential, already planning on how there'll be flowers on that table and linens in that closet, it doesn't get any warmer.

Someday, there will be sunlight streaming through white curtains and a breeze on warm spring days as music and laughter wafts through the air. There will be pictures on the walls and things stuck up on the fridge and a pantry stocked with food. There will be joy and family and it will be everything they'd dreamt of in Camelot.

It's not a home, she decides, because Killian isn't here to share it with her.

But he will be soon. It's what she clings to as she lies on the couch in the living room, her hands pressed against her middle.

..

She brings him home.

It's not nearly the welcome she'd wanted to give him. He didn't even stay for a tour, instead insisting that "this isn't who I am" before storming out the front door.

He'd kissed her, that pirate of hers, the one she loves so deeply and truly, right there in the front room, just like she'd dreamt he might.

For a fleeting second, she almost thought he'd come back to her, that he'd stay and they could figure this whole messed up thing out together.

Instead, she's left to the house on her own, feeling emptier than before. She doesn't know why she'd thought bringing him here would have done anything for him. While he had been the one to choose it, he doesn't remember that.

It's just a house- an empty shell that she can claim as hers while she plots and schemes. It's a place for her aching heart and her tears.

There is no rest for her now, no curling up by the fireplace with a book, no gardening out back, and no home cooked dinner. Instead, there's a demon in her head and a sword stuck in stone, and the weight of _knowing_ _everything_ on her shoulders.

..

Henry doesn't come inside and she's glad for that. She doesn't want him to see it now. It's no place for his math homework or his video games or his hopeful glowing expression.

Being with him again, even if just for a little while, brings hope again. Despite the fact that the love of her life doesn't feel the same way, she at least has her son. And with Henry on her side, there is always a chance for her to get what she wants.

His bedroom is bare when she stands in it later that night, and when she looks out the window, she can see Regina's place in the distance, giving yet another shot through her already broken heart.

..

When he comes back to her, the true him, they're standing by the front door.

He'd stared out at the sea through the telescope by the window- a sight she'd too spent hours of her restless nights gazing at. He'd kissed her again, swept up in the moment, having told her that he loves her, and she'd been both deliriously delighted and hesitant because she knows that the moment he comes back, he's not going to like the direction she's taking.

But it's over now, because he's _angry_ about what she did and now all of that hope she'd felt while she was watching him look around their house is gone.

..

She lies on the couch for a long time after her parents and Regina leave. She spends so much time wishing that things didn't turn out the way it did and stupidly wishing that things would be different.

Merida is here, guarding her, and when Killian comes to her, he has nothing but venom on his tongue, and she cries because not only is he right, but this fantasy she'd had of Happily Ever After is officially destroyed.

..

He's at the house when she finds him, the blade in her hand, and she knows what she has to do, but she can't do it.

She wonders just how much time he's spent here, if he's taken the time to finally tour the place that he'd chosen for them with Henry's help. If he knows each and every nook and cranny just as well as she does. If he can picture the linens they'd put on their bed or the colors they'd paint the walls.

But it doesn't matter, because they're not going to get that future. He isn't him now and he might never be.

..

She's weary and numb when she climbs the steps to the house.

Her heart is completely broken and her lips are still tingling from the last kiss she shared with Killian.

She doesn't know what to do now. She just wants to be here, in the place he'd chosen for them and their future- a future that feels hopelessly as good as gone.

Emma lies on the couch in the living room with her hands over her middle, Killian's ring between her fingers, and she tries to breathe, but breathing is a task, too.

When she hears the whispers, feels the pull, she sits up, her eyes wide.

This isn't the end. She will get her future with Killian, here, in this house. They'll make it a home. Together.

..

Emma hasn't slept in what feels like an eternity and she just wants to curl up in bed and sleep it off, but she's wide awake, her hand in Killian's strong, warm one.

It's nice to finally be back in Storybrooke- not the Underworld version- and seeing the house again makes everything feel right again.

They'd been to the Underworld version of the house a few times, but it's different now, because he's here with her and he's _alive_ and despite all that they've been through, he's not going to leave anytime soon.

He has a scar on his neck and she knows he probably has one on his belly, but she hasn't had the time to examine him from head to toe yet. She still aches knowing that they were both injuries inflicted on him because of her, but, as he'd told her in the Underworld, there's nothing that can be done about them now.

The house is empty, but it feels safer now. Familiar.

As they make their way up the creaking steps, Emma makes note of which ones need to be looked at, and never once lets go of Killian's hand. She's not sure she'll ever be able to sleep again, because if she does, he might disappear or something.

But when they lie down in their bedroom, on a bed she'd once found too cold, she feels nothing but warmth.

Their shoes and coats fall to the floor of the bedroom when she finally lets go of his hand. She curls up onto the bed a moment before him and when his head hits the pillow, he sighs. His eyes are slits as he stares at her.

Emma doesn't have words to say, and neither does he, but they don't need to speak. She moves close to him, curling her hands against his chest, feeling his heartbeat, and her eyelids slide shut.

"Sleep, Swan," he whispers. "I'm not going anywhere."

..

Slowly, they move into the house. It isn't for lack of trying. It just takes a while because being the Savior in Storybrooke doesn't exactly leave room for time.

It takes them two weeks to get the wallpaper off of the walls in the upstairs rooms. They decide that they're going to do everything themselves, without the help of magic, no matter how much simpler it would be.

Making this once cold and weary house a home is only going to happen if they pour work into it.

Henry moves some of his stuff into the bedroom he'd chosen for himself and he excitedly offers his assistance when it comes time to paint. They spend Saturdays and Sundays in their painting clothes, music drifting through the radio while they laugh and both of the boys keep trying to get paint on Emma's face.

When Killian succeeds, he doesn't stop laughing, even when Emma pokes him in the nose with a spot of blue paint herself. Then he places his hand on the small of her back and kisses her sweetly, their smiles happy.

They spend lots of time moving furniture around until it feels like _them_ , the three of them. Plenty of time is devoted to cleaning the dust and mopping the floors together, made into something of a game until the whole place is officially without grime.

Her parents, Regina, and Robin come over to help when they need it, and they spend some evenings sitting in the living room with plenty of Granny's take out and laughter between them.

They heal and their house does, too.

..

One night, when she and Killian come back from a date in town, she feels especially light, giggling as she twirls with him in the kitchen. They bake cookies together and she almost burns them when Killian's fingers get a little twitchy at his sides.

And she realizes, as she's munching on a cookie with her back pressed to Killian's chest, that the kitchen is full.

There are magnets on the fridge that hold up sweet notes from Killian bidding her good morning those days he went out to his ship early and there are pictures Henry took of the three of them and of her parents and little Neal and there are menus from places in town.

The pantry is full and the cabinets have dishes- their very own dishes- and if she were to look out the window, she'd see the starting of a garden.

On the counter there's a pile of letters and junk mail and bills all addressed to them.

And she knows that the same can be said of the rest of the place. There are pictures on the walls, of moments, of family, and there are flowers on the tables because Killian always buys them for her.

There are curtains on the windows that help filter the sweet morning light in when she curls up in the living room with a book. There are board games on a shelf in the closet downstairs and there are coats and shoes strewn about in various locations, no thanks to the growing teenager living here part-time.

There is a puppy whose food and water bowls sit by the porch door, along with his leash that they use when they take him on walks. Killian had found the pup whimpering by the docks and had brought him home, his brow knitted worriedly, and Emma had been far too weak to say no.

And it's in this moment that Emma realizes that the house that once had been a hollowed shell is now a home.

..

Over time, the house changes.

They paint an upstairs bedroom yellow and fill it with furniture Marco makes for them with the assistance of August. There are little bottles in the kitchen and there are toys in the living room, right by the swing.

There's a new life in the house, a little girl with big eyes and a noisy cry, who enjoys being cradled in her father's arms as he walks through the house singing to her in the middle of the night when sleep just won't come.

He tells stories that the walls of the house are privy to more than a hundred times a month. There are diapers and piles of laundry that get nearly forgotten for weeks on end until finally the little Jones girl goes to sleep and Emma can get work done.

And while the house was home before, now it feels ever more so.

..

There are other changes after that, too.

A new bedroom painted a soft pink and the yellow traded for blue. There are more toys than ever before, scattered all around the house.

The house is witness to first steps and first words, to firsts of all kinds. Pictures are added to the walls and to the tables. Family gatherings become natural and so do family dinners gathered around the dining room table, all five of them.

There are rainy days spent taking adventures through books in the living room. There are snowy days spent outside in the yard, building snowmen and throwing snowballs, and curling up afterward with cocoa and cookies in front of the fireplace under blankets and wrapped in the arms of one another.

There are warm days spent with doors and windows open, with games and running around and playing with the dog under the spray of the hose outside, leading to a trail of mud and giggles when excited children come running back inside.

There are nights spent lying out in the backyard, staring up at the stars while Killian explains the constellations over and over until little minds fall into sleep and need to be brought back inside to be tucked in.

The house is observant to the tears that come when Henry leaves for college and it's also witness to the shock that comes not days later when Emma discovers that they'll be expanding their family once again.

There's no place she'd rather be. Not when her heart is so filled and content.

She stands in the doorway to the kids' bedroom, watching as her husband tells them the story of a dashing prince who swept the fairest princess in all of the lands off of her feet, a story he tells them almost every night, and every time, she can't help the smile that spreads toward her ears.

When it's over, Killian tucks the blankets up to their chins and kisses their foreheads, whispering, "I love you," before turning around and finding her standing there.

Emma enters the room to kiss the children's heads and smiles as she studies their sleeping faces. She wanders back to the door and shuts the light off before shutting the door.

Killian takes her hand and smiles warmly at her.

And it's everything she'd thought about all those years ago when she'd been alone in this house, wanting this future so desperately.

She has it now. She has a family and a home, filled with joy and goodness and light.

Finally, there is nothing but Happily Ever After.


End file.
